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I made $30 the last time I worked. I made $0 the shift before that and $90 the shift before that (a Saturday night). And trust me, I looked really hot. This disaster was no fault of my own. It’s just Summer. Either way, when a club is making more money off me than I make off me, it’s time to figure out a different plan. So I’m going back to Alaska next week.

Yikes. I knew that summer here is bad, but man, I have never been in a situation where I actually had to take out the calculator and start planning a budget. I knew roughly where my spending safe zone was and always stayed well within that limit and saved any extra money. I’m not making nearly enough to be that comfortable anymore.

In a friend’s living room, me and two other defeated strippers lounged around on the couches, expressing our misery while eating tacos. One of them had her car packed up with everything she owns. She’s going to work in California. The grass is greener anywhere, we’re convinced. The other girl is a model for a famous clothing store. We sort of bonded when our moms died months apart. She’s a cool chick. She basically gave up on our club, too. She says we’re too hot for this shit. Did I mention she models? She wants me to work at a different club with her. A more upscale place. I’m convinced that no where in Vegas is worth the trouble right now.

My relationship was as successful as my job. I left B again. I’m still so in love with him but I know I wasn’t as appreciated as I should be. I’m one in a million. I’m hilarious and beautiful. I’m fiercely loyal and totally passionate. Yes, I have my insane moments but dammit, I’m a catch and anyone who plans to be my other half needs to know that. I know I did my best but some people will never see what is plainly in front of them.